


Prose

by Blistering_Typhoons



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Books, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Light Angst, Light crack, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Trashy Romance Books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22056919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blistering_Typhoons/pseuds/Blistering_Typhoons
Summary: An exploration in book genres.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Prose

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> Last fic of 2019! Man this was a year, I'm going into the New 20's with an example of something good in 2019- Good Omens!
> 
> Disclaimer: I have a weird relationship with romance novels, nothing in this fic is indicative of my real views on the genre :D
> 
> Enjoy!

Aziraphale likes books.

That is something that Crowley knows for a fact, considering it’s something he’s presented with all the time.

Crowley doesn’t mind it (like at all) but he is curious as to what specifically the Angel enjoys about them. Sitting in one spot and scanning little words that smell absolutely ancient isn’t the most appealing thing he can dream up, but maybe it’s a Demon thing.

So he asks him about it.

Well he more so politely demands to know as they’re dining at some random restaurant one night. It’s one of the rare occasions where Crowley is the one who decides where they eat, though he more so just scans the area loosely and then consults Aziraphale until the Angel finds something that fits his aesthetic.

Aziraphale had looked up at him with mild surprise, halfway through dabbing away the non existent mess from his mouth as they wait for the next dish.

Crowley raises his eyebrows expectantly as Aziraphale clears his throat delicately.

‘’Well, I suppose it’s...’’

‘’You suppose what?’’, Crowley drawls out, enjoying the look of flustered annoyance he’s regarded with in turn.

‘’I was getting to that.’’, Aziraphale huffs out, face scrunched in concentration.

Crowley smiles softly as he waits, head lolled back in quiet content. 

Aziraphale huffs again and Crowley can hear him tapping a finger against the dark wood of their table.

‘’Tough question?’’, Crowley teases, repositioning his body and gaze to look back at the Angel.

‘’Yes! It really shouldn’t be, I’ve been reading for so long after all- oh thank you!’’, Aziraphale interrupts himself as their waitress plops down the dishes.

Crowley nods at her politely, before half-heartedly picking up his fork to poke around a his meal. 

Aziraphale meanwhile digs in eagerly, and Crowley sighs softly as he prepares to wait.

Surprisingly he doesn’t have to.

After about a minute of Aziraphle enjoying his food and Crowley enjoying the sight of Aziraphale enjoying his food, the Angel stills with a thoughtful hum.

‘’I suppose...it’s just one of those things you can’t explain. I know it’s silly, but reading a book to me is something nobody can understand unless you do it yourself. A feeling you get that...just does not make sense.’’, Aziraphale’s gaze wanders far past Crowley for a second and the Demon knows.

A feeling you can’t explain.

Crowley sucks in a deep breath and before he knows what he’s doing he blurts out the first thing he can possibly say, _oh no don’t you dar-_

‘’Love.’’

There’s a silence, punctuated only by the noise of the other diners and cars zooming by. 

Crowley swallows and looks down at his food. 

‘’Like love, right? Or, y’know so I’ve heard.’’

‘’I...yes. Like, love.’’, Aziraphale muses, fork dangling precariously from his fingers.

There’s a prickling sensation all over Crowley’s skin and suddenly the dim, warm glow of the lights above seem brighter than they can possibly be.

‘’...Crowley?’’

‘’Just leave it Angel. S’fine, I... I can understand now.’’

Aziraphale opens his mouth to say something, but closes it with a soft shake of his head.

Crowley breathes out once more, this time focusing on his meal with a bit more enthusiasm.

And then.

‘’Well it’s that and then you have the, hm, romance genre. Which...oh nevermind.’’, Aziraphale adds with a delighted chuckle.

Crowley tenses with curiosity, but before he can open his mouth Aziraphale waves him away.

‘’No don’t my dear, it’s not important. I’m sorry I said something I wasn’t thinking, I know how curious you get.’’

Crowley deliberates for a second in silence, before slumping back down.

In truth an odd feeling was crawling up his spine, like the snake up a very special tree. 

Aziraphale reads romance.

It means something and he doesn’t know what. Clearly it’s bad, otherwise his Angel would’ve told him.

Also Aziraphale called him ‘dear’. Again.

Now there’s something to ponder for a few months. 

Turns out a few months is a few days, five bottles of wine and a book thrown halfway across his room in disgust.

Slightly dramatic, but he’s drunk which seemed to be the excuse for everything.

Aziraphale is going to kill him.

After the conversation in the restaurant, they had gone for a little stroll around the city, Crowley had located his car and subsequently dropped Aziraphale off, whilst managing to convince the Angel to belt out a few Queen songs with him (which had been stupidly gloriously and vice versa) and then after Aziraphale invited him in, stayed the night and then stolen a book.

Well he didn’t steal it, he did write his name and the title in Aziraphale’s little book thingie- he just didn’t outright tell the Angel.

_The Waves of Love and Passion, by Doritha Manshot.  
_

Crowley grimaces, taking the last of wine in the bottle with a vicious swig before sending it rolling towards his shaking greenery.

He groans with a delirious chuckle, burying his face in his hands.

‘’What the hell are you doing, Crowley?’’, he berates himself, dragging his fingers over his face.

He glances over at the rumpled book with tired eyes, before getting up with a mighty sigh to retrieve it.

He sways a little _(a lot)_ on his feet and nearly falls forwards into the wall as he bends down to pick it up.  
He swipes of imaginary dust from the paperback, glaring at it in the process.

With a grunt he flops back into his chair, tossing the cursed thing back onto the desk. 

There’s a silence for about a minute, Crowley’s hands twitching to chuck the book out of the window. 

Ultimately he decides to just suck it up and drag the book back over to him.

With a wave the book flips open to where he left off, conveniently highlighting the sentence he’d been reading.

‘’Better not be another sex scene.’’, he mutters.

_The man before her growls lowly in his throat.  
‘’Dolores. You. Will. Not. I refuse to let you-‘’  
‘’But I’m not a child Draven! I can handle it!’’, she snapped back, head tilted up in pride.  
‘’You are a woman! What do you think those men will do to you?’’  
Dolores huffed out a disbelieving breath. This man!  
‘’All I wish to do is be in your company! I’ll be safe! Are you so ashamed of me?’’, she says hotly.  
He steps towards her threateningly and Dolores gasps, feeling her womanhood pulse-  
_

‘’Oh come on, Aziraphale!’’, Crowley yells, slamming the book down to pour himself more wine.

He tsks before gingerly placing the book on his knee.

_-feeling her womanhood pulse at his presence. She so desperately wishes she didn’t want him so-  
_

Crowley groans.

‘’Yes we know, you’ve said so at least twenty times already! Just want him and get it over with.’’, he shouts.

An awkward silence falls on his gathering of nobody, and considering nobody else was there to make it awkward, he turns his body to glower at his for once stilled plants.

‘’Oh shut up, you know what I mean. It has nothing to do with your nanny!’’, he snaps, slumping back into his previous position as the leaves quake once more.

He sighs, jamming his elbow into the middle of the book to pinch the bridge of his nose.

‘’Ok, uh, she wishes she...’’, he mumbles, eyes trailing over the words.

_But it was simply so difficult. He enticed her in a way no other man ever had, swept her off her feet with the ease of, well a pirate. The love he makes to her left her breathless and delirious and the thunder in his eyes had the same effect. He made her feel things like lust, anger and...love.  
_

‘’Love! That’s what you call love! You don’t know a thing about love!’’, Crowley spits out, shooting up in a way that sloshes the drink all over his usually immaculate floor.

His chest heaves with stuttered, angry breaths as he stares blankly at his ceiling. Birds chirp outside his window and voices drift up to him from below.

‘’Maybe it is.’’, he says quietly, grasp loosening on his glass.

Silence.

‘’Maybe I’m doing love wrong. Wouldn’t surprise me. Maybe love is shouting at eachother, not getting along, sex. I should be endorsing it, I’m a Demon after all. Apparently love is jealousy, possessiveness, heart ache...ok, yeah maybe that last one. Maybe I should... sweep him off his feet and...hurt him.’’, the last two words are gasped out and Crowley falls back into his chair.

Aziraphale likes books. He likes romance and uppity, posh heroines with charming, roguish assholes that doesn’t fail in everything that he tries to do.

Crowley looks at the book once more.

It’s just a silly little story, really. About inaccurate pirates and feisty, English ladies. He’d probably not have minded it, had it not been for his own...love.

His stupid, twisted little version that he can’t explain with flowery prose.

Two days later Crowley is dragging himself back onto the bookstore sheepishly, book tucked into his jacket to hide it from the judgemental eyes of the world.

‘’Hel- oh! Hello Crowley, what a pleasant surprise! Come to return the book have you?’’, Aziraphale greets him, tone slightly teasing.

Crowley chuckles with embarrassment, handing the book over.

‘’Yeah, sorry Angel. Didn’t particularly feel like telling you at the time.’’, he answers, loosening up at the familiar, warm atmosphere he’s in.

Azirphale laughs delightedly, hands clasping the book.

‘’I was rather puzzled, but I assumed you would explain in due time so I didn’t pry. Did you get through the whole thing?’’, the Angel asks, making his way over to one of the stands.

‘’Arh, yeah. Took a while, but I did. Didn’t know it was your type of thing, Angel.’’, Crowley says carefully, studying Aziraphale’s expression.

‘’What? Oh, no my dear, I absolutely abhor them.’’, Aziraphale says distractedly, fussing with the placement.

Crowley isn’t one to fantasize or see the world in a way that wasn’t the demonic one. But he’d learnt about dolly zooms somewhere and well, he’d imagine it’d be perfect for his situation because _wot-  
_

‘’What? I thought...’’, he trails off, and that prickling sensation is back.

The ambient sounds are back, seemingly louder than ever before.

‘’Of course not, Crowley. My goodness, I only read them to giggle for a while. Mind you some of them are a bit...too problematic for laughter and others are just good, but these?’’, he holds up the book with a grin.

‘’These are just for amusement. I assume you felt the same?’’

Crowley swallows, fighting the urge to slither into a gutter somewhere.

‘’Oh. Well, yes I-I was amused, until a certain point. Speaking of which, Draven-‘’

‘’Oh no, don’t get me started on that man. Horrid character, very bland. I enjoyed him immensely, but he’s no Crowley-‘’

Two things happened.

Aziraphale gasped with widened eyes and clamped a hand over his mouth, dropping the book.

And Crowley nearly stumbled over the books he was trying to delicately manoeuvre around.

A silence (actually awkward this time) descends upon them like a heavy duvet in the middle of summer when you’re trying to sleep, but you just keep tossing and turni-

‘’Angel.’’, Crowley ventures softly.

‘’I-I- oh bother.’’, Aziraphale moans, burying his face into his hands quite like Crowley had a mere 48 hours ago.  
Crowley wanders if he should say something when Aziraphale straightens up.

‘’Let’s just forget about that, shall we? I didn’t mean to, Freudian Slip and all that!’’, the Angel says eagerly, a panicked look in those eyes that are usually at peace.

And Crowley realizes. 

And Crowley wishes he can smack himself, which he half feels is not the time right now.

‘’A Freudian Slip is when you accidentally say something you weren’t meant to.’’, he answers calmly.

‘’What? Crowley-‘’

The Demon steps forward.

‘’For example, you look at another person and something is, always has, been at the tip of your tongue.’’

He realizes, knows something.

He takes another step forwards and Aziraphale stumbles back into the stand behind him with a soft noise of surprise.

‘’A person that you’ve known for so, so long. You want to say something to them, but you can’t. You stop yourself. _I always stop myself_.’’

Aziraphale gasps as Crowley takes a final step, their chests just barely grazing. Crowley swallows heavily, mouth barely opening to say the next few words.

‘’Suddenly you talk about something, something that reminds you of the person. Or more, something you crave from the person. You talk and talk, and think about that person. And then...’’, he leans forward, spurred on by the fact that Aziraphale hasn’t smote him yet.

He positions his mouth near Aziraphale’s ear, and hisses.

‘’Freudian Slip.’’

The Angel sucks in a deep breath and Crowley feels like dying once more, but he holds on. Hoping Aziraphale gets it. Hoping that...he knows. Hoping he can feel the pain, longing and deep affection radiating from the Demon’s stone cold heart.

Hoping that he’s felt the same for as long as Crowley has.

‘’You know Freud has been mostly discredited, right?’’, the Angel answers.

Crowley smirks with reptilian glee.

‘’Yes. Mostly.’’

And Aziraphale smiles back beautifully.

‘’Kiss me, Crowley.’’

‘’I was planning on it. Angel.’’

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/Kudos are very appreciated! 
> 
> Happy New Year!


End file.
